Legends Never Die
by NineStoicCrayolas
Summary: If one were to ask Uzumaki Kushina how a certain Namikaze Tomoe came to be, she would have flushed to the roots of her hair. In truth, Namikaze Tomoe came to be in a very strange, unique way, one that she did not quite understand herself, one that scared her to the very core of her being.


Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

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If someone were to ask Uzumaki Kushina how Namikaze Tomoe came to be, she would have flushed to the roots of her red, red hair and sputtered an excuse about how it was wartime and things became a little hazy in the heat of being reacquainted and relief that her lover was alive.

Her lover, husband really, would have flushed in a less obnoxious way, red coming to his cheeks in a flattering light that would have made you think he was a charming young man. He would have rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, a knowing, amused look in his powder-blue eyes and would walk circles around you until you had no idea where you even started.

Namikaze Minato's team would have recounted a horrifying eye-scorching experience that talked about the fear that filled their stomachs as they watched their pregnant sensei's wife freeze, a gasp escaping her full lips before squeezing her eyes together and groaning in pain. Rin would have gone pale, her mouth trembling, as she retold the story of holding Kushina's hand in the military base that required her adept skill for water jutsu as the older woman screamed obscenities at her sensei and bellowed about the pain. Kakashi would have given you a glare, a suspicious glance and then, once he saw you were not a threat, explained in clipped, tight sentences that it was none of your business.

If someone were to ask Namikaze Tomoe how she came to be, she would have looked at you, a strange gleam in her icy blue eyes and raised her chubby chin to stare you down until you would not be able to ask anymore. She would then proceed to ignore you in the most subtle of ways—a toss of her rusty hair that tumbled in corkscrew curls over her slim shoulders, a quick, rigid glance from her glacial blue eyes, a curl of her rosebud lips in a smug, knowing tip—and make you think that you should have _known_ the answer even before you asked her.

In truth, Namikaze Tomoe came to be in very strange, unique way, one that she did not quite understand herself, one that scared her to the very core of her being.

Kushina would have eventually gotten a little tipsy, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright as she recounted the twelve hour birth that had given her the red-headed, blue-eyed daughter she loved so dearly; explained how her name, _Tomoe_ , in it's most archaic form was meant to symbolize hope, wishing even, and she explained that she named her first child after the desire to end the war.

Instead, Tomoe remembered flashes of memories; a young girl with pale, pale skin and a lopsided smile. Her teeth were a little crooked before the braces and she had a noticeable cleft in her chin, one her older brothers teased her constantly for. Her eyes were a little wideset and her mother bemoaned about imperfections and beauty pageants they would not be able to sign up for. She remembered the shock of the fall, her oldest brother's cruel, satisfied face as he pushed her off the edge of the cliff morphing into a perfect expression of shock and worry as their father rushed to the edge, hysteria climbing in his face. She remembered the way the ground cracked her spine in six places and blood rose in her throat, her neck stuck in a stiff embrace, her eyes going glassy, vision fading away.

The last thing she had ever seen before the flushed, joyful face of Uzumaki Kushina was the sound of her father's screams and a gray sky, the signs of the beginning of a thunderstorm.

It had been confusing, terrifying at first, to go from being a fourteen-year-old New England girl to a day old child and for the first week of her life, Namikaze Tomoe cried. It wasn't a sobbing, shrill cry that new parents were often weary and about, no, it was a quiet, steady trickle that had both Minato and Kushina frantic and scurrying to as many doctors as they could—ranging from a local civilian doctor who shrugged, his eyes compassionate, to Tsunade who frowned and thumped them both on the back, speaking to them about the psychological impact that war might have had on the baby. They accepted it with heavy sighs and worried smiles before looking between themselves, lips tightly pressed together.

She had spent much more time stuck between her new parents, Kushina running her fingers over the curve of her cheek until she felt a drowsy stir in her eyes and mind whirled away into darkness. Minato would place his hand over her stomach and the heat of his skin made her curl into him, her tiny fingers clutching onto his thumb until it slipped away as she slept.

The first time she had accepted the change was when she saw the Uzushio swirl on the back of her mother's kunoichi vest. The breath had been knocked out of her lungs as she hazily remembered the crappy T.V show Michael—her youngest brother—loved so dearly and her perfectionist, health-freak mother had hated so much. She remembered passionate ranting sessions about the world of _Naruto_ and how her brother moaned about the lost potential of both the kunoichi—he was a steadfast feminist and a bleeding heart—and the rest of the main cast—from Lee to little Mitsuki—and she had sat there, shocked, her tears gone for the first time in seven days.

She had been reborn as Namikaze Tomoe.

She had been reborn as someone who did not exist in the show or the manga.

What this meant…she had no idea.

She only knew she was not supposed to have been born, let alone conceived.

Kushina had been delighted, the purple bags underneath her eyes doing nothing to hide the joy when her little girl had stopped crying. She had thrown her own little party, cooking up some homemade ramen in the small kitchenette that Tomoe had begun to call her own, humming a bouncy tune to the hiss of the boiling water.

Minato had come home and taken one look at the still somber, but tear-free face of his little girl and had smiled that small, gentle smile that made women and men around him melt into the ground.

"I'm glad she's alright." Her new father had sighed, coming up to her and brushing his fingertips over the fluff of her hair, before pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "You were worrying us quite a bit little Tomoe-chan."

"Minato!" Her mother had called from the kitchen, "Home so soon? Did you see—Tomoe-chan stopped crying!"

Her father had chuckled, a soft tinkling sound that had her mother's lips quirking upwards, warmth burning in her violet eyes.

It was in that moment that Tomoe realized she was loved more here in an entire week than she was loved as that New England girl for fourteen years. A gummy, happy smile filled her face and Minato sucked in a breath at the two dimples that filled her cheeks and the joyful light that rose in her eyes.

She vowed, deep in her bones, that she would protect them. That she would do _anything_ for these new parents of hers, the ones that loved her as she was, not as the pretty spare daughter, not as the missing fourth son.

Never as the ghost child of a dead boy before her.

Things evened out from there. There were still hiccups in her life, days when she sat and stared out of the window and realized just how _magical_ and diverse this place was. Often, she clutched onto her mother's hair and waited for her father to come home from his missions in the field with dallying impatience, gnawing on her chubby fingers.

She developed a system. One where she watched and waited, catalogued everything in her sight, trying to remember each and every memory she had of her youngest brother's rants. She watched how her father came back, sitting on the couch with blank eyes as he methodically sharpened his kunai over and over until they gleamed. She took note of her mother's trembling hands and how she sometimes stumbled in her cheerful smile when she thought herself to be alone. She noticed the way the village got quiet, not an insect buzzing, not a bird chirping in sight and thought about the wars that plagued this universe.

Tomoe recalled very little from when she had been _her_ but what she knew and remembered were three important things her brother stressed upon in his abundant tirades.

One, that Danzo was the source of all problems in the village of Konohagakure.

Two, Uchiha Madara was alive, yet not at the same time, and used a decoy of Uchiha Obito to start on his Genjutsu Moon Plan in order to save the world.

And three, that Uchiha Itachi was innocent and deserved a better life.

The rest of her knowledge on the Naruto universe was hazy at best, but she knew, somehow, that her father was supposed to be the Yondaime in a couple of years and that Sarutobi Hiruzen was one of the most corrupt, not to mention, lenient Hokage in history. She knew very little, barely anything even, about the rest of the Naruto universe. At the edge of her memory she could recall barbaric practices that included child soldiers, murder for sport and the little Sand jinchuriki that would destroy everything around him because of how he was raised and taught.

She also knew that she was supposed to be a big sister in a couple of years. How many, she did not know. Tomoe only knew that Naruto was going to be born soon in a haze of blood and warfare and the blame and hatred that was conveyed in the village would center on him.

Tomoe had made up her mind a long time ago to reserve judgement about Naruto. She did not remember how he was like as the main character of her brother's T.V. show. She barely remembered the name of his Hyuuga lover, a fact she only discerned from that one time her mother had brought her to a ramen stand and someone with the same pale, pale eyes as Naruto's future wife introduced himself as Hyuuga Hinori.

If Naruto was anything like her old brothers, she did not know what she would do. She had vowed to herself that she would protect the family that Kushina and Minato were building, but she was terrified that Naruto was going to end up like Kevin, her gamer brother that pinched the inside of her thighs and shoved her down the stairs, or even worse, _Jake_ , whose cold, leering face she remembered pushing her over the edge of that cliff, a satisfied look in his cruel brown eyes.

So, it was with frail hope in her heart and the steeling of her jaw, that she decided she would wait and see.

It was when she began to crawl that she met the Mikoto-chan her mother chirped about on her high mornings. This was also the time she realized just where she was in the timeline. Her brother had spoken about the timeline in three segments—the early feudal era, where the mess all began, Kakashi, Minato and Kushina's era in the Third Shinobi War and the Naruto era, where most of the show took place.

"Kushina-chan!" A flowery, bright voice called from the living room, "I'm home and I brought Itachi to visit your little Tomoe-chan."

Her mother laughed, picking her up off the couch and settling her on her waist before moving towards the newcomer. Trying to get closer to her, Tomoe leaned her head on her shoulder and clutched at her mother's long locks.

"It still surprises me that we got pregnant at the same time, dattebane!" Kushina chuckled. "And Ita-chan's just _so_ adorable. Though, I have to say, Tomoe-chan is cuter~!"

Mikoto, the woman with the flowing laugh rounded the corner and came into view. A small child, dark-haired and wide-eyed sat on her hip, soaking in the apartment with curious, undaunted eyes, a serious look to his cherubic face.

"Is yours serious too?" Mikoto joked, drawing attention to the soft slant of her plump lips and the pretty, dazzling twinkle that shone in her dark eyes. Her skin was like porcelain, soft and smooth and Tomoe kind of wanted to touch it.

As the New England girl, she had had rough skin, calloused by playing in the sun and running around in the scraping sand, uncaring that it made Mother screech at her and her father go in the living room and stare at the T.V. like he wanted to slip his hands around Mother's throat and shake and shake and shake.

Mikoto was beautiful like the pretty girls Mother had wanted her to be like, graceful and clean, always sporting a kind smile, never faltering in her façade of happy politeness.

The New England girl inside her knew it was exhausting, keeping up that happy, pained façade, the twitch of her cheeks growing more painful by the passing second as the muscles strained to keep people from seeing what lay underneath.

"Tomoe-chan's a cute baby. Curious as the devil and quiet as a mouse, dattebane…" Her mother trailed off and then brushed a calloused thumb over her bald head. Tomoe nuzzled into it, relishing in the love that was so freely given to her. "I was worried at first you know…with all the quiet crying and everything…Minato tried to tell me it was nothing but…you know how I am!"

Her mother tried to inject some cheer into her words and it fell painfully flat. For a fleeting moment, Tomoe felt guilty scaring her parents like that, knowing that it must have been terrifying seeing your child crying softly every waking moment, never rising above a hushed whimper, not knowing what to do or who to call.

Still, she shook herself.

She remembered Mother's therapist telling her that it was important to grieve, accept and then let go when something big and horrifying happened to you. Mother had preached about it for weeks, relentlessly going after her brothers Jake, Kevin and Michael until their ears bled and they swore never again to leave cottage cheese outside the fridge for more than twenty minutes.

It had been important, crucial even, that she had gone through that stage and while some part of her was terrified that her new parents would one day wake up and leave the loving stupor that a newborn child had influenced, she knew that she could not have lived as both, never quite forgiving her last life, never quite slipping into her new one.

"She's the cutest baby I've ever seen, Kushina-chan and I've got Ita-chan in my arms right now." Mikoto said seriously, and yet a warmth twinkling in her eyes told Tomoe that she was having fun trying to extricate a laugh out of her normally upbeat, cheerful mother. "Look at those blue eyes, oh she—oh gods, Kushi-chan, she's got Minato's smile. The moe smile that makes everyone just melt into a pile of happy goo."

Her mother laughed, throwing her head back and Tomoe smiled brighter this time, her cheeks dimpling as Mikoto's happy smile fell into a genuine one. Warmth suffused inside her and she let out a squeal of excitement, her happiness permeating the air effortlessly.

Her little baby babbles caught the attention of the child in Mikoto's arms and Tomoe found herself the sole captive of the baby's attention. He was curious-looking, with too-wide eyes and faint, barely-there freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose. The look in his eyes, half-glassy with curiosity and sharpened with the brilliance that she suspected reflected in her own—she had seen her ice blue eyes in the mirror one day, her mouth going open in shock as she noticed just how…unlike a child she seemed. Her gaze was not vacant or overly curious.

It was steady and heavying, as if she had seen everything the world could offer, and, she supposed she sort of did. Death had been a short, horrifying experience and she had known another life, which had been different from this one, alien, terrifying and short-lived.

It was this that she saw reflected in the baby's eyes. His gaze was heavy and curious, but it lacked the knowing look that hers held.

He tilted his head, his pudgy hands reaching out to graze over her chubby cheeks.

She cooed at him, annoyed that the only sounds of interests that she could make were ones where she sounded half-in love.

"They're so cute!" Kushina whisper-yelled, probably not wanting to break the spell that had fallen over the ever-curious baby in Mikoto's arms.

Mikoto grinned mischievously. "Itachi's never been _this_ curious since I introduced him to dango."

The name tickled something in her mind and suddenly, it was as if an ice cold bucket of water had been dumped over her. The baby—little kiddo Itachi with the curious eyes and pudgy hands—opened his mouth, a gurgling sound leaving his tiny lips as if he wanted to know what was wrong and why she'd stiffened when he grabbed a hold of her forehead.

She huffed, her fat cheeks puffing out in a way that she _knew_ must make her look like a chubby chipmunk—not…that she thought they had them here, but _whatever._

Tomoe was freaking out. A lot. She hadn't expected meeting any of the more important characters any time soon—she had to prepare, she had to plan and listen and watch—she had to adhere to her _system._

She flailed, accidentally knocking Itachi's pudgy arm off her head and the baby keened, nearly yelping at her violent actions. It nearly drove her to tears as she desperately tried to control her tiny body, basically useless, and she let out a quiet little sob that had Kushina stiffening.

"Oh Itachi…" Mikoto started, worrying her lip as her eyes darted between Tomoe and her son, concern building in those dark, depthless eyes. "Kushina—"

"Just—Just hold on, Miko-chan." Her mother sounded tired, exhausted at the sound of her crying and just for that, Tomoe held in the tiny cries she wanted to scream and let her mother draw her close and cradle her heavy head with soft, gentle hands and worried eyes. "Hush now, baby. Itachi-chan's not going to hurt you, kiddo. Mikoto's a dear friend of mine, you see, and we wanted for both of you little ones to meet each other, maybe get to know him a little even."

She was pulled away from her mother's neck and brought up to eye-level. Dark, unwavering violent bore into her ice blue ones and a happy, calm smile that barely trembled filled her mother's face.

"Is that okay with you, little Tomoe-chan?"

Somehow her mother's soft babbling and quiet reassurances calmed her down enough to give her a gummy, toothless smile, the dimples that her father loved to trace appearing on her chubby cheeks. Her mother calmed, the stress leaving her face and a real, happy smile spread her lips instead.

She rejoiced in the capturing of her mother's happiness, knowing that if she had thrown a tantrum Kushina would have most likely burst into tired tears and if there was anything that Tomoe never wanted to be, it was to be a burden on the family that loved her, irrevocably and forever.

"Woah, Kushina-chan that's amazing!" Mikoto exclaimed, "I don't think I could have done that with Itachi-chan…he can get so fussy sometimes, especially for his bath, but you just did it like a pro. Teach me your ways, oh wise one."

Kushina chuckled and then set her down on the couch, belly down, and ran a hand through her red hair, snagging on the ponytail she'd put it in earlier. "Ah, well, you know me! I've got all those secretive talents that no one seems to find out about until they're needed."

Mikoto grinned and then set Itachi down as well before taking a seat herself. Kushina collapsed onto the couch as well and a trill of laughter escaped her as she bounced up and down on the soft fabric. Tomoe felt her mother's eyes settle on her form and a pleased smile slipped onto her face.

"Oh, she likes that." Mikoto chortled, watching how her son was making his way closer to Tomoe, his eyes alight in determined curiosity, a small, smug smile on his face as he caterpillar-inched his way towards her.

In a fit of childish immaturity, Tomoe stuck out her tongue.

As their mother's laughed, Itachi's eyes narrowed.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

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I just _needed_ to write this. Enjoy! I hope you tell me what you think :)


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